


29th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [29]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator, Klaus (2019), My Time At Portia (Video Game), Overwatch (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Horror, Body Worship, Boot Worship, Cock & Ball Torture, Dom/sub, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia, Spitroasting, Stink Kink, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21644080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 Hugo/Mat/Craig | ch.2 Gust/Builder | ch.3 Gust/Builder | ch.4 Lúcio/McCree | ch.5 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.6 Roadhog/Lúcio | ch.7 Torbjörn/Soldier | ch.8 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.9 Klaus/Jesper | ch.10 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.11 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.12 Akande/Lúcio | ch.13 Aizawa/FatGum | ch.14 McCree/Hanzo
Relationships: Builder/Gust (My Time At Portia), Craig Cahn/Mat Sella, Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Jesper Johanssen/Klaus, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Roadhog | Mako Rutledge/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Torbjörn Lindholm/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: Fic Batches [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 6
Kudos: 174





	1. Hugo/Mat/Craig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugo/Mat/Craig – Dream Daddy – ball worship; spit roasting; moneyshot – The potluck continues :)
> 
> Prequel: B28F2

Mat can feel anxiety gently scratching at the edges of his consciousness, but it is difficult to focus on anything when you’re being so completely and utterly filled.

Hugo is so deep in his throat that Mat has trouble breathing. His nose is buried in the thick, fragrant bush of the professor, and his throat clicks in pathetic attempts to swallow around him whenever Craig seems to try and crawl dick first into him from behind.

Hugo looks like he’s absolutely fascinated, remembering only in irregular intervals to pull Mat off of his ruddy dark cock and let him gasp in huge gulps of air, a string of spit connecting the tip of his cock to Mat’s swollen mouth slowly dripping down.

It’s still so early. The sun is only now starting to creep down and bathe everything in warm orange light, and they are in the middle of Craig’s backyard fucking.

Mat wheezes, fear suddenly freezing his body up. Black spots dance in his vision as his brain tells him candidly that Brian could be mowing his lawn and just throw a casual glance through the slats of the fence and see how Mat is being a grade A slut, getting pumped from front and back by two sweaty hunks.

“Shhh… easy now,” Craig croons. He sounds like he’s talking to a spooked horse. His big hand is dragging against the small of Mat’s back and up beneath his shirt. They haven’t even taken their time undressing Mat; they just put him on his knees and opened his pants and his mouth and had at him.

Hugo, similarly, only has his wrestling onesie pulled to the side, his massive cock and hairy balls drooping out with a waft of his scent that had watered not only Mat’s eyes but also his mouth.

“You good, pal?” Craig asks from behind. He’s deep inside Mat. Deep enough to make him think he can taste him in the back of his throat just as he can taste Hugo still. It’s warm and snuggly with Craig’s balls pressed against his, and the afternoon sun shining down on them.

Mat is sure the air would be fragrant with the smell of flowers and the foods from their potluck, but all he can smell is the stink of their bodies after their wrestling workout. It makes him wheeze again instead of answering, and Craig leans over some more, rubbing now two hands firmly up and down Mat’s sides.

“Everything is fine,” he murmurs, in full on dad mode all of a sudden. “You’re doing so well, buddy. You still want this? We can stop if you like… but… I know you don’t. Right?”

Mat slowly nods. His head is spinning but he has been staring at Hugo’s cock right in front of him, fat and drooping and wet with his saliva, and his brain is chanting at him to open up wide and let Hugo shove the thing back into his throat and choke him on his stink.

“There you go, pal.” Craig pats his sides like he would pat a horse, and Mat can’t help but to simply sink forward and nuzzle his face against Hugo’s heavy, hanging balls. Hugo makes a soft sound of surprise above him, but his big hands as they frame Mat’s head do not pull him away.

“What’s he doing?” Craig asks curiously, voice dull through the hazy fog that is descending over mat.

“He uhm… he’s licking my…”

There’s a moment of silence. Craig is grabbing Mat’s hips and finally keeps on fucking. Sharp and shallow thrusts; just pushing in deep deep deep and not pulling back much. His sweaty balls smear against Mat’s taint and make him feel dizzy with the thought of how much they have to reek as well.

They feel very naked. Unlike Hugo who is absolutely hirsute, Craig seems to shave himself meticulously. Mat really… really wants to suck on his balls, too.

He is shoved forward into Hugo’s crotch again and again, mouth open and wet and tongue lolling as he tries to suck one of Hugo’s heavy breeder balls into his mouth.

He wants to lie on his back and let them sit on his face. He wants to open his mouth up wide and let them choke him on their heavy, sweaty sacs. He wants to cradle them in his hands and kiss them and rub his whole face over them like a cat just to thank them for being so nice and full just for him.

He can just tell that Hugo will pump him full with a load of biblical proportions, and the thought alone has his cock drooling into the juicy green grass of Craig’s lawn.

Anxiety is taking a backseat to his daydreams as he tries to stick his head far enough between Hugo’s thick thighs to suffocate himself on the delicious stink in the little nook right behind his balls.

Hands on his hips pull him back again until he is sitting in Craig’s lap, speared on his cock and whining like a babe because he wants to keep sniffing and licking Hugo’s hairy sac.

Craig is laughing. It’s not an unkind sound but enough to make Mat squirm again, nervousness bubbling in his belly as he watches through the haze of need as Hugo steps closer and grabs his head.

He only needs to open his mouth again and there it is… his very special kind of pacifier sliding into his throat without a hitch.

Getting fucked like this is even more intense. He is sitting on Craig’s cock, spreading him open and pushing in as deeply as he’s never had before while Hugo is standing above him, able to almost piledrive down right into his throat.

Mat is filled to the absolute brim with cock, right in the middle of their potluck, and he could not be happier. For once in his life – since Rosa’s… he finally feels free stuffed with dick and ringed by sweaty men.

“You’re doing so good, buddy… takin’ dick so well… like a champ,” Craig is rasping behind him.

Hugo doesn’t say much. It’s hard to tell but his cheeks look ruddy with a flush. Mat knows that he’s about just as shy as Mat himself, and grunt fucking one of his neighbor’s throats must be wildly out of his ballpark as well; but he’s doing a wonderful job at it.

Mat’s cock is a pulsing wound between his thighs. He bucks and gurgles when he curls a limp hand around it, a few tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes.

Hugo pulls back and takes his delicious cock with him. He is breathing heavy enough that it is ruffling his mustache as he curls one big hand around his wet dick and starts to jerk it in harsh motions. Mat wants to sob for it to come back to him but Crag is moving as well; pushing him forward until he is kneeling again and his cock slides out of the silky needy clutch of Mat’s ass.

He sobs. They can’t… they can’t just leave him like this! He’s so close! He’s so damn close and now he’s so so empty and they can’t… they can’t just…

He’ll do anything. He’ll lick their balls. Their asses. He’ll suck their dirty jocks… He opens his mouth and wants to start begging, but they’re right there, shoulder to shoulder, hands on their cocks, stripping them in harsh motions, turned towards one another as if they wanted to touch tips.

Mat comes the second the first hot stripe lands on his cheek. He wouldn’t be able to tell whose it was; he can only open his mouth and close his eyes and let go of his anxiety for once as he jizzes into the grass and gets his face creamed in thick, sirupy loads.


	2. Gust/Builder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gust/Builder – ace nb Builder; cbt; discovering kink – Gust and Builder try out their newfound kink... (direct continuation in next fill)
> 
> Prequel: B28F8  
> Sequel: B29F3

Gust is happy for the cold outside. It means he can curl a scarf around himself and hide away inside it as he makes his way to the A&G Construction. It is a bit difficult to walk with the same quick elegance that he usually does. He is happy most of the town’s folk just wave at him and keep to themselves.

His… his testicles are aching. His ears start burning when he lets himself admit to the fact. They are tender, lightly squeezed between his thighs every now and then, and as he stands before the little house of his company, he has to center himself and make himself admit that… yes, his testicles are tender and aching from the harsh treatment the night before.

He thinks of the Builder currently on their own plot of land, checking over productions and making sure the few animals they have are well tended to. He wonders if they are still thinking about last night the way Gust is thinking about it.

They are not hurting, after all. Maybe they have already forgotten. Their mind isn’t always prone to wandering to… perverse stuff.

He pulls his shoulders up and nestles his nose deeper into his scarf as he reaches out and unlocks the door to A&G Construction.

Albert is nowhere to be seen, which is nice. Gust needs a few moments to just be for himself. He pets QQ and fills his bowl. He is moving on auto pilot, head still on last night. The feeling of the Builder’s strong hand around his tender sac. Squeezing.

He’s… never had anybody be so mean to them. He’s never even considered it himself.

When they had been little, Ginger had kicked him one time, and the pain and nausea had been enough to never have him consider it as something that could cause pleasure, but _yesterday_ …

He is very careful as he sits down on his chair. His cheeks burn as he feels the ache in his testicles flare in a dull throbbing sensation. He spreads his legs a lot more than he usually would, trying not to put pressure on the tender spots. He stares at the half-done blueprints in front of him but nothing happens. He can’t make himself focus on work.

He realizes that he is getting… aroused.

The door opens and he jumps in his seat, twisting around slightly and preparing to face Albert. Maybe even having to find an explanation for his flustered appearance.

Who he sees, however, is the Builder. They are not wearing anything especially warming. They rarely get cold when they are out and about on their farm, running from one gadget to the next.

They grin at him and push the door closed.

“Hey,” they say, back pressed against the door, apparently to make sure Albert will not burst in at an inopportune time. “How are you?”

Gust scrambles to get up from his seat. It is nothing he had ever been explicitly asked for by the Builder, but he feels it just… necessary to properly face them whenever they are addressing him. His hands subconsciously fold in front of his crotch, and he only realizes that when the Builder’s eyes flick to the gesture and a mischievous grin stretches on their face.

“Just wanted to make sure everything is fine. You’re not hurting, are you? I mean… in a worrisome way.”

They keep grinning like a little kid, and the sight almost punches him in the gut. God… why is he so… so disgusting and horny while they can be so cool and amused about it? He looks down, biting his lower lip.

“Uh… n… no. I mean… yes. I mean… not in a… worrisome way.”

Their grin is slowly getting broader until their eyes do a funny little squint. He stares helplessly, blood pumping heavily through his veins. His cock is getting… interested.

“Glad to hear! I really enjoyed that yesterday. It was fun!” Hah… Hah… “I was wondering if you wanted to try and play some more tonight? If you want to. I mean you can also come over and I’ll cook us something. _Or_! I could cook and then we could play.” They are babbling, just speaking so loudly and without any shame.

Gust is almost squirming in his place, heart racing stupidly fast. He wants to beg them to be a bit more quiet. Instead he remains quiet, ears still burning.

“I… could come over after work,” he says softly. They smile brightly and come closer, framing his face in their hands and pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“Great! You can decide on whether you want to play, alright? And don’t think so much into it. I can already see those gears turning.” For the first time, the amusement is leaving their face in place of a gentle, almost paternal expression. They card their fingers into his hair, watching him avoid their gaze.

He feels ashamed for having been found out so easily.

“Hey. You always think so much. You don’t need to, right? It’s just a thing between you and me. You’ve never made me feel like I had to worry about being the way that I am around you, and I want to give you the same feeling of safety.”

Gust wants to protest. His… his _perversions_ are nothing at all like the Builder’s simple, existential truths, but they press their palms against his cheeks and keep him from responding.

“I think it’s fun. You think it’s hot. Just… let us roll with it. Don’t think about it. Just enjoy.”

He nods slowly, first to just convince them, and then to convince himself. They pat his cheeks and let go of him slowly.

“Okay. I’ll be cooking fish and I’m going to get that now. I’ll see you tonight.”

.o.

Gust has barely finished his meal when he’s already standing next to the dinner table with his pants around his knees, junk studied by the Builder.

He has his hands in front of his face which is radiating heat at an alarming degree.

“So… I was thinking,” they say, and the thought that the _Builder_ had been thinking about his _junk_ is… almost too much. “...I squeezed them yesterday. I was wondering if you would enjoy some bit of an… impact?”

There’s nothing for it. They just have to try.

Gust has never seen the Builder as eager to play as when he watches them deliberate over the proper way to hurt his testicles. He feels like he is in a dream of some kind. When his movements to undress stutter, the Builder is right there, crooning in his ear about how the thought of hurting him excites them.

How they might be happy to indulge him and let him watch them masturbate later…

The incentive gives him newfound strength. He undresses. He contorts himself in whatever motions the Builder wants from him.

He bends over the table, his empty plate between his hands, and spreads his slim thighs obediently for his first ever slap against his testicles with the flat of the Builder’s hand between his thighs.

He hiccups out a little howl. He waits for the nausea to follow but all that comes is heat pumping through his body.

The Builder leans over him and huffs hot breath against his ear.

“You’re so hot like this…”


	3. Gust/Builder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gust/Builder – ace nb Builder; cbt; pinching/slapping/kicking; figuring a kink out – They both just need to learn...
> 
> Prequel: B29F2  
> Sequel: B30F5

He doesn’t know what to answer. Blood tries to rush into his face but it seems all to have pooled in his cock. He hasn’t even realized how desperately hard he has become until he moves just a little bit and his dick swings heavy and tender between his thighs.

The Builder must have realized as well because they reach for it and curl loose fingers around it.

“Wow. Wow! Look at that! You’re so horny for this holy… dang.” They sound so surprised and amused, completely out of it again, and Gust whines and hides his face against his biceps.

“Don’t say… it like that,” he complaints softly, tears of humiliation stinging his eyes, hips lightly moving to try and fuck into the hand.

“But it’s true, isn’t it? You’ve been so hot and bothered for this whole thing. You looked like you’d let me play with you right then in your company, you know? I was considering it, too. Bend you over your chair and test out how far you’d let me go…”

They are talking all quick and excited, and it shouldn’t get Gust so desperate as it does. He whimpers, glad that his long hair is hiding his face just as well as his biceps is. Their fingers are still around his cock, just squeezing mindlessly as they babble.

They’re not aroused by any of this; that much is clear. But they’re _into_ it all the same.

A touch on his testicles has him gasp and go up on the balls of his feet, feeling a phantom pain. He has his eyes clenched shut, waiting for the spike to subside and realizing that there is nothing to subside. It’s just the Builder’s hand, thoughtfully cupping his tender sac in their work roughened palm.

“Aww… don’t look like that. I’ll tell you before I hurt you, okay?”

He nods slowly. He feels wrapped in cotton or something; everything seems a bit dulled and reaches him just a few moments after it should.

Builder tells him to go on his hands and knees, and Gust complies without so much as a token protest. He just moves, slow and careful, like a little old person. He doesn’t make an effort to undress further. He just kneels down on his expensive pants and then puts his hands on the Builder’s thankfully clean floor.

“Hmmm that looks so nice. I really like your balls. They’re so… hurt-able. Is that a word? I dunno.”

Gust clenches his eyes together again. The Builder is slowly moving from left to right, seemingly watching his testicles from every angle. He is drawn tight as a bowstring, fingers digging against the floor of the Builder’s home.

He doesn’t even know what that is supposed to mean. He doesn’t think his testicles are anything particularly… outstanding, but he hasn’t made it a point to really look at other people’s junk that way.

In any case, shame is coursing through his body and making him start to sweat. He is pressing his trembling lips together. Part of him wants to clench his knees and hide his vulnerable sac. Maybe he moved for real because the Builder is right there and gently nudging his knees as far apart as his jeans wrapped around them will allow.

A moment later, he feels something gently nudging at his balls from the underside. He doesn’t know what it is and doesn’t dare to look back and find out. Maybe the back of Builder’s hand?

“Are you ready? I’ll be careful.”

They sound more gentle this time. They might not be as hot for this as Gust but they do understand the vulnerability of the situation quite well.

He nods slowly, sobbing very softly just in preparation of what’s to come.

The sudden hit against his testicles doesn’t register at first. What _does_ register is the meaty little smack that comes with it. The pain as such comes second; a dull thing radiating through his body and making his cock drip a long string of pre-cum. His mouth is open, his body trying to come to terms with the fact that he is willingly letting himself get hurt like this.

He looks back over his shoulder and peeks at the Builder. They are standing there, one hand braced on the back of a chair, one leg still lightly raised. They had kicked him in the balls. With the top of their foot they had almost gently squished his testicles against his body.

He stares at them and they stare back, their cheeks just a bit red. Maybe… maybe they are aroused by this after all, though he wouldn’t be able to tell what aspect it is.

They swallow hard.

“Maybe…” they bring their foot forward again; they have taken off their shoes and socks. He feels their toes gently nudging into his softly throbbing sac. “Maybe you can fuck my thighs after this…”

He just stares at them. They look back, then glance down at his balls again.

“Ready?”

.o.

Half an hour later, Gust is lying on the floor, hands shoved between his thighs, cradling his aching, throbbing balls as he sobs breathlessly. The pain is… immense but not crippling.

Still, he feels like he just has to sob just to get the ache radiating through his body out there.

Builder is slowly rounding him like a predator. Their kicks have gotten progressively sharper until the last one had made Gust fold up like an army knife. There’s a rushing in his ears from the blood pumping through him. He thinks about how he has presented for the pain; how he had struggled to push his knees farther apart and his ass higher into the air. How he had trembled and whimpered in fear of the pain to come but still almost orgasmed from getting kicked.

“Get up,” Builder tells him. There is a note in their voice, like they are a bit short of breath themselves. They are just as fascinated by Gust’s willingness to get hurt as Gust himself. “Come on… Get up! I’m not done with you…”

Gust whimpers and slowly starts unfolding himself again. He has taken to letting his head hang low to watch everything happen. It’s… so embarrassing how fat his cock still is. It is just as flushed and swollen looking like his poor kicked testicles. He feels like he’ll be able to come without a hand on him.

He presents his balls, and the Builder moves to squat down next to him. One hand on the small of his back, the other palming his balls.

“They’re so hot and swollen,” he can hear them whisper.

He is breathing deep and wet. He feels like he could be drooling like a beast any second now. He sees them move their fingers but he doesn’t understand them pinching him until the pain suddenly shoots through his body.

He cries out then, a real sound of pain as he jerks away from the sensation, body shaking and hot and confused, everything blending together.

He thinks the Builder might be saying something but it is drowned out in everything else.

When he finally comes to, he realizes that he is lying on his side, hands thrust between his thighs yet again to hold onto his throbbing testicles, cock still twitching through the last bits of orgasm.

His face is wet with tears. He must look absolutely horrible, but the Builder is right there, brushing a hand across his hair, face a bit flushed and eyes bright with curiosity.

“That was… wow. I thought you’d die while coming so hard.”

He whines and turns his head away, a shaky little grin on his lips.


	4. Lúcio/McCree + Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/McCree + Reaper – rape; non-con; bunny!Lúcio; degradation/objectification; no happy ending – The sun is up but the nightmare continues.
> 
> Prequel: B27F12

The first thing Lúcio becomes aware of when he starts to wake up, are the soft rays of morning sunlight creeping into the cave.

The second is a warm tongue between his furry cheeks, patiently lapping at his aching little hole. He closes his eyes again and sighs, moving his long legs a little to open up more before the ache of his thighs suddenly makes him remember where he is; and why he is here.

His eyes fly open, an aborted scream lodged in his throat as he twists and instinctively tries to claw his way towards the friendly looking entrance of the cave.

Big hands curl around his hips and thwart his attempt immediately, the tongue staying firmly where it is; eating him out in slow, self-indulgent drags. The way he suddenly feels way too sensitive and raw makes him wonder just how long his assailant has been licking at him.

He turns his head, breath still mostly caught in his chest, and heart sinking when he sees Jesse there on his belly, face stuffed between Lúcio’s fluffy soft cheeks.

“W… what?” he whispers. He doesn’t… understand. The night is over, and gone with it is the full moon that had driven his friends insane, but… Jesse does not act like he usually would. He is holding Lúcio’s hips so tight it hurts. Before he can ask him why he is still acting so strangely, another voice makes his head turn forward once more.

“He’s been patient while I mounted you. It’s just fair that he should get to have the goods now.”

Gabriel is crouching not far away from them, his gaze a lot calmer than yesterday but his expression still… off.

Lúcio gapes at him, heart thumping a fast tattoo against his ribcage. Around them, bodies are shifting and moving as the rest of the pack awakens but does neither help Lúcio nor look particularly surprised about him in their middle, furry legs spread by their second in command.

The madness from the night before has left them but things still don’t… they are not… _right_.

“P-please let me go,” Lúcio whimpers. Gabriel smiles at him slowly with one side of his mouth; the same handsome smile he’d throw Lúcio before lifting him and sitting him on his shoulders to help him get at a fruit too high up for the rabbit.

“Where would you even go? We mated you… _I_ mated you. You’re ours now.”

Lúcio whimpers. He doesn’t… he doesn’t _understand_. What happened to his friends? Why are they still so… mean to him?

There’s a last indulgent drag of Jesse’s tongue against his raw little hole before the other starts to move; shifting over Lúcio before grunting.

“Get up,” he rasps, roughly tugging at his hips. “Wanna mount you properly.” Lúcio’s legs spasm weakly. They still ache from the rough fuck from last night, and don’t feel like they are going to carry his weight any time soon. Jesse does not care. He lifts him and positions him however he likes, and Lúcio’s body blindly obeys.

Jesse had always been gentle and playful with him. Having him now leaning over his back and biting meanly at his shoulders is like a nightmare. Lúcio can’t orient himself; all he can do is hold on for the ride as the tip of Jesse’s cock nudges against his aching little hole and begins to push in, in, in; forcing his overworked muscles to stretch and accommodate his girth.

Gabriel stays where he is, crouched and watching; that little grin still on his face while his pack is rounding them but not coming closer.

“How you like the new bitch, Jesse?” he asks, eyes boring into Lúcio’s shocked gaze as he speaks as if Lúcio wasn’t there at all; as if he was nothing but… but a toy for their amusement.

“Feels so good… nice and warm…” Jesse’s voice doesn’t sound like it usually does. It is rougher, growling above Lúcio while filling his guts more and more with cock. Lúcio’s mouth is hanging open, tongue lolling as he weakly claws at the ground of the cave.

“Why… why are you doing this?” he tries to ask, but it only comes out in a jumbled mess, and nobody seems to care anyway. Jesse is not quite as harsh as Gabriel had been with him, but he still moves roughly, grunt fucking into Lúcio until he is crying out wordlessly, tears burning in his eyes.

His usually strong thighs are shaking fiercely, somehow managing to hold him up while his little tail is being crushed between his own body and Jesse’s pelvic bone.

“Your load’s still in there, boss,” Jesse announces suddenly. He sounds elated. Gabriel makes a sound of interest, moving and crawling around so he can better see, and Jesse pulls back especially far just to let Gabriel inspect the wet gleam on the other’s cock.

“Hmmnnn. You’re welcome,” he croons. Gabriel thrusts back in and Lúcio makes a punched-out sound of… something. He wants it to be pain, but the truth is that his body is getting warm and tingly despite himself. Tears start running, dripping down his cheeks.

Since Jesse’s announcement, he is being very aware of the wet squelching sounds his thrusts produce.

He is fucking him, displacing the load that had bloated his guts earlier that night, until the frothy mess is starting to get pushed out, dripping down into his fur and making it horrifically sticky.

“It’ll only be able to carry a pup or two… but they’re gonna be gorgeous,” he hears Gabriel murmur through the fog of pain and… lust… dulling all his senses at the moment. He wants to protest and be angry with them, but he doesn’t have the energy to do anything but hiccup every time Jesse grunt fucks into him and stretches him painfully wide around the fat base of his cock.

There’s a whistling starting up in his ears when Jesse’s knot begins to swell and stretches his little hole that much wider.

Lúcio is drooling, eyes staring unseeingly ahead of himself. He can only grunt weak and pathetic when Jesse reaches for his long, soft ears and uses them to pull first his head back and then his painful little cunt onto his dick.

They keep talking, but whatever they say goes right over Lúcio’s head. He is bodily shaking, sweat running in rivulets down his body as he is being continuously used and abused. He doesn’t understand how this could have happened. He doesn’t understand what has happened to his friends; why they would be so mean and rough to him.

Even those thoughts start to melt away when Jesse knots him. He is aware, dully, that his eyes are open, but he doesn’t really _see_ anything. He is being knotted and pumped full, and his body responds with a pathetic little orgasm, but Lúcio feels empty and used inside.

He just… doesn’t… understand.


	5. Reaper/Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier/Reaper – boot kink; uniform kink; pain kink; Jack being a perv that likes to fantasize about Gabe crushing his head – There’s still a boot left to clean...
> 
> Prequel: B26F12

There is a moment where Gabriel looks like he is about to take off the blue duster, but after a small glance in Jack’s direction seems to rethink it. Jack flushes, knowing that he obviously is pretty obvious in just how horny he is for the sight of Gabriel in his uniform.

Gabriel slowly sits down at the desk. Jack can see – and hear – the desperate strain of his pants around Gabriel’s thickly muscled thighs. He wants to put his head between them. Wants Gabriel to squeeze until he feels like his head is going to pop like ripe fruit.

He wonders if Gabriel has even an inkling of all the fantasies Jack is harboring about getting his head crushed by the Blackwatch Commander. At least he doesn’t think that he is the only one. He’s pretty sure that McCree must be feeling similar; it’s the only explanation for the kid’s repeated gross offenses at this point.

Gabriel is smirking at him, grabbing a stack of blank papers and tapping them against the surface of the desk as if he were actually about to work. His dark gaze is knowing, glancing up and down Jack’s sweaty frame.

Oh. He knows.

The desk he’s sitting on is nothing like the impressive desk of the Strike Commander over on the other side of the base in Jack’s office, but somehow he manages to still make it work.

“Soldier!” he barks when all Jack does is stand there and stare, large sweat stains beneath his arms and between his pecs as if he had gone through a drill instead of just kneeling on the floor and licking Gabriel’s boots clean.

He tries to stand at attention but he knows he is doing a horrible job at it. His body no longer seems to be his own. His cock is an aching fat line down one leg. He wants to readjust it but he thinks what Gabriel might do to him if he were to touch his dick now would… shit. He might just come and the whole play would be over.

“S-Sir!” he snaps. Gabriel sneers at him.

“I gave you clear instructions, did I not? What are you standing there for? There is still a boot to be cleaned, Soldier!”

Jack can’t help the throaty groan as he stumbles forward. Gabriel is smirking, but Jack can tell that he, too, is really getting into this. He turns slightly in his chair to present Jack with his boots planted firmly on the ground.

Jack is thankful that he won’t have to try and squeeze himself into the space beneath the desk. He goes down on his knees with a heavy thump, but when he reaches with obvious greed for Gabriel’s leg, it is pulled out of his grasp, and the boot planted on his chest.

He lets himself get pushed away, looking up at the Strike Commander with feverish eyes. His cock is pulsing angrily where it is painfully squeezed in the crase of his combat pants. God… he feels like a bull that got its balls bound just so it would buck. He wants to move his hips; offer his cock up for whatever thing Gabriel might have in store for it.

“Did your mama not teach you any manners?” Gabriel says finally, voice dangerously silky. Jack can feel his dick twitch even pinched like it is, pre-cum bubbling at the slit.

“...Sir?” he says weakly. Gabriel’s dark eyes bore into his. He leans back in his chair, boot pressing harder against Jack’s chest, making him bend lightly backwards. He looks impossibly good throning there in Jack’s uniform. Jack can’t stop from staring at the sheer breadth of his shoulders in the blue duster.

“I am giving you a boon, am I not? You are a disgusting little freak that gets off on licking his commanding officer’s boots, yes?”

Heat trickles down Jack’s spine, sweat prickling beneath his arms. He feels like he has to be flushed pink all over like a little pig, and the way Gabriel looks him up and down with an indulgent look on his face only drives that home.

“...Y-Yes,” he gasps. “I… I am a little freak for your boots, sir. Th-thank you for the privilege of… cleaning them.”

Gabriel swallows hard. He shifts slightly in his seat and readjusts his own cock without any subtlety.

“Get to it, ingrate,” he rasps, the slightest of trembles to his voice. He slowly pulls his boot away from Jack’s chest but Jack catches it before he can put it back on the ground. He looks up at Gabriel as he cradles his heel in the palm of his hand and slowly starts bending over.

They stare at each other, their breaths hitching as Jack sticks out his tongue and slowly drags it across the steel cap of Gabriel’s boot. His cock twitches, and so do his hips without him being able to keep them calm.

He’s never been a… a freak like this, but the sight of Gabriel in his uniform has hit him somewhere deep and primal.

Gabriel is looking down on him like he, too, can’t stop staring.

Eventually, Jack has to close his eyes on a low groan. He is dragging his tongue across the few leather patches of Gabriel’s boot where they are not protected by metal. His cock feels ...stuffed; every thick painful pulse hitting him deep in the gut and trickling through his belly, filling him with a static kind of need that hits him unprepared.

He ducks down, groaning, tongue out and wet and lapping at the thick sole of his boot… dipping into the profile and mashing his face against it until his nose hurts. Fuck… Fuck, he’s making out with Gabriel’s boots and feels like he’s about to shoot his load. His hips keep moving, twitching, fucking nothing at all; just hurting his own dick as he keeps pinching it in the thigh crease of his combat pants.

“What a pervert…” Gabriel rasps above him, watching him from beneath heavy lids. “A goddamn disgrace… Are you going to cum, Soldier? Will you cream your pants from licking your Commander’s boots clean?”

Gabriel shifts his other foot between Jack’s thighs. Jack makes a sound of panicked denial, head pulling back, tongue still lolling out. He stares up at Gabriel with wide eyes, not daring to look down. It hits him all the harder when the edge of the sole of Gabriel’s boot suddenly digs meanly against the swollen crown of his dick.

He makes an aborted sound; a weird croaking little howl, hands holding on to Gabriel’s boot, hugging it against his chest as he can’t… he can’t stop it. He’s coming in thick, painful pulses, creaming his pants in time with the pounding of his cheeks.

There’s a whistling in his ears as a static, tickling feeling rushes through his whole body. It takes him a while to realise that it is _embarrassment_ that he is feeling. Humiliation that pushes the delicious sharp edge of the orgasm further and further.

“Disgusting,” Gabriel comments. He sounds breathless. “You disgusting _disgrace_ of a Soldier… You get off like that cleaning the bathrooms, too? Moan like a little slut while you scrub them with a toothbrush? ‘Cause that’s what you’ll be doing for the near future, pervert…”

He keeps meanly digging the edge of his boot into Jack’s poor dick, keeping Jack low-key on his high, looking at Gabriel like he’s his savior.

“Yes… Sir.”


	6. Roadhog/Lúcio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako/Lúcio – sub!Mako; dom!Lúcio; belly kink; belly appreciation; belly humping – Lúcio thinking about the special relationship he has with Mako and also just loving on his big fat bod.

Lúcio having a ‘good time’ with Mako has, in some ways, the same energy of a cub crawling all over their dozing mama bear and trying to animate them to play.

At least from an outsider’s point of view.

Lúcio knows that, because others have told him whenever they’ve watched the two of them play. He can understand where they are coming from but it doesn’t really bother him.

Their relationship doesn’t have to make sense to the other subs and Doms that peek inside the public space rooms that he sometimes makes Mako play with him in. They probably can’t find the allure in having a sub as seemingly unresponsive as Mako, but they also haven’t put the work into understanding the big guy.

Lúcio has, though. And he _loves_ what they are having.

Tonight, they are not in any of the clubs. Lúcio hasn’t felt like showing off, and Mako always placidly goes with whatever his Dom wants to. He does enjoy their plays, but he never cares much for their surroundings. Lúcio thinks that he might even be up to playing in a crowded mall, and while grossly illegal, the thought _does_ get him going more often than not.

Mako is wearing his pyjamas already when Lúcio approaches him. There’s a moment of his mouth twisting in what could be annoyance, but when his dark little eyes slide from the television to his Dominant, his face goes all soft and warm in the blink of an eye.

For all that others complain about Mako’s apparent unresponsiveness, he is an exceptionally sensitive boy. It’s humbling, really, when Lúcio thinks about how he is an open book for his submissive. How Mako only needs to take a passing glance to know exactly what Lúcio needs when.

So instead of complaining about the fact that he wants to watch his soap opera, he willingly lets Lúcio slowly pop open the buttons straining over his belly one by one. Lúcio smiles lightly at him, urging him to sit back more fully so he can crawl to straddle his sub’s lap for now.

Mako is just so impossibly huge… His belly is slowly extending and contracting with the easy, calm breaths he is taking. Lúcio can feel the easy warmth inside his belly slowly getting stoked the longer he watches. It’s kind of like watching only half-molten magma move down the side of a volcano. There is something captivating and sensual about watching his body move. About feeling how completely and absolutely zen Mako is most of the time.

“Gorgeous,” Lúcio murmurs and leans in. There are still a few buttons closed across Mako’s soft, plump tits, but for now Lúcio is happy with leaning his cheek against the firm curve of his stomach and feel the heat radiating off of him. Get slowly moved up and down by his sub’s breathing.

It fits in the soft, needy mood that Lúcio has felt himself slipping into after getting out of the shower. He feels like a babe for just a moment; small and warm and protected.

He knows that Mako would never let anything happen to him – just as he would always protect Mako. They’re in it for the long run, after all.

He lies across Mako’s belly for a while longer, just feeling the hypnotic up and down of his breathing, arms curled around his stomach to both sides, and holding on for dear life. There is no way he’d ever be able to tuck Mako into a secure, all-encompassing embrace like other, smaller submissives, but that is fine.

Mako still goes all soft and needy and sneaks his big hands beneath Lúcio’s shirt to be kept warm against his belly whenever he feels overwhelmed or in need of some comfort.

Eventually, Lúcio moves slowly, raising his arms and popping the last three buttons out of their loose holes. He can almost hear the fabric thanking him for the reprieve. He doesn’t think that Mako particularly enjoys having to squeeze himself into too small clothes, but he knows for a fact that Mako very much enjoys the cute pig pachimari pattern all over the garment.

He will have to look into a solution for the problem – but for now he is distracted with crawling up higher until he is no longer sitting in Mako’s lap but lying across his huge belly, both hands full with his soft tits, fingers squeezing around his big rust red areolas.

“God, I love how big you are,” Lúcio groans, hips flexing slowly to drag his cock against the lower curve of Mako’s belly. He has opted to just wear a loose pair of shorts after his shower, and all the skin contact right now is making him go almost cross-eyed.

Mako grunts softly and shifts minimally but stays right where he is, arms at his sides; an unmoving force. It is this exactly that has others confused as to what Lúcio _gains_ by playing with the unresponsive sub. They don’t see what he sees, of course. Don’t hear what he hears.

Mako is all but purring beneath him; a low wheezing kind of hum as Lúcio keeps squeezing at his tits and eventually focuses his attention on the fat nipples, gently plucking at them to encourage them to become nice and hard for him.

Mako’s face is open and soft and his mouth almost hanging open as he looks down at Lúcio, attentive, waiting for any orders that might come.

Lúcio doesn’t _have_ orders, though; other than Mako just sitting there and letting him play with him, that is.

He keeps moving his hips, fucking his clothed erection against Mako’s belly, the heat expanding and settling in his balls.

He lets himself slide down again somewhat, letting go of Mako’s delicious tits in favor of rubbing his face all over his huge, warm belly.

“I love this so much,” he groans drawn out, almost with a sob at the end. He’s clinging to Mako like a little ape but he really doesn’t fucking care. “I love your big fat belly so so so so much.”

He’s fucking it now, slow and leisurely. He can feel his gaze going a bit glassy as he glances up into Mako’s face. His sub’s big chubby cheeks are flushed an excited red. Maybe even a bit embarrassed and shy.

He moves a bit, huge hands gently curling around Lúcio’s coltish hips, and before he knows it, they have dexterously slipped his loose shorts down and freed his cock, needy and a bit wet at the tip, dragging it against the hot, firm curve of the belly.

“Shit… yeah that’s it,” Lúcio whines. He’s still young and still has a lot to learn. Maybe he shouldn’t hump his submissive like a little puppy, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Not when Mako looks at him like he’s hung the sun and the moon, and is breathing so heavily as he listens to Lúcio’s garbled praises for his fat body.

Lúcio awkwardly pushes himself up again, crawling all over Mako and making his big submissive bear all of his weight as he keeps humping and fucking the curve of his stomach, legs spread wide enough to have his hips aching, face planting between Mako’s soft tits so he can rub his cheeks against them and blindly mouth for one big nipple to nurse on.

All of this is messy and probably very embarrassing looking, but Lúcio knows that Mako doesn’t care about shit like that. He couldn’t love him any more than he already does.


	7. Torbjörn/Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torbjörn/Soldier – lingerie; sweat kink/stink kink – Morrison is just so easy for it. He’ll spoil Torbjörn.

Torbjörn pauses when he finally makes his way into his rooms late at night and sees the dim light in his bedroom being on. It’s been a long day of working through the various modification demands that Overwatch and Blackwatch dump on him in unreasonable amounts, and really he would still be in his workshop if the Strike Commander hadn’t issued it an automatic shutdown after a certain amount of time has passed.

The very same Strike Commander that he suspects is now just a few steps away in Torbjörn’s bedroom. Not that he isn’t flattered, but he is also _exhausted_.

“Jack… you in there?” he calls out, rubbing at his eyes slowly, trying to gather his scattered wits enough for this.

“Yes, sir,” comes the soft reply; almost saccharine and flirtatious. Torbjörn can’t deny that his body gets immediately interested, even if just to sit up and take notice.

“Ah. Listen– I gotta at least clean myself some.”

“No!” comes the hasty answer before Torbjörn can start dragging himself into the direction of the bathroom. “No, uh.. please. It’s… better like that.”

He snorts softly, thick lips twitching into a smirk. Ah… it be like that, then. Torbjörn might not be the youngest anymore, but he’s been around the block more than enough times. He fumbles his communicator out and murmurs a message to his wife as he makes his way towards his bedroom.

“A little kitten crawled into my bed tonight. Just so you know, my love.”

He’s glad suddenly that he not only left his claw arm back in the workshop but also opted to keep on the other prosthetic. It’s easier to throw the Commander around with two hands instead of trying to wrangle his long legs into compliance while he was mewling and squirming and begging for dick.

Torbjörn pushes the door open and pauses there. He inhales deeply, thumbs hooking into his suspenders; just taking in the scene before exhaling on an appreciative sigh.

Never would have thought it looking at the man, but he really knew how to pretty himself up.

Strike Commander Morrison in some nice dark make-up that accentuated the paleness of his eyes, all together with a set of baby blue lingerie that simultaneously looked custom made for the set of his long legs and wide ribcage but also like they were still fighting for dear life just to stay on his person.

There’s a little chime to be heard – Ingrid either dialling in to watch or just acknowledging his message – and Jack is moving and twisting around on his bed like a little wet dream.

“Hmm… you been waitin’ long?” Torbjörn asks gruffly as he eyes the way the bra is hugging Jack’s pecs so tight, it is pushing them together and making them look like a right nice pair of tits.

“No… not that long,” Jack breathes. He’s on his back, bracing himself on his elbows to see Torbjörn and his reaction to the little slut on his bed spreading his long stocking clad legs to show off the tiny slip of underwear he’s wearing; the bulge of his cock and how it is on its best way to slip out of the snug hold.

“I should really go and shower for a moment, doll. Don’t want to mess you up,” he says gently, and to test the waters while dragging his cybernetic hand across his neatly bound beard. He is eying Jack and finding that he quite likes the way his sultry expression becomes somewhat shocked as he shakes his head and starts to flush.

“No! No uh… that’s… that’s not necessary. I just want…” he tapers off. Morrison usually has no qualms being a crude piece of shit, just like the rest of the Soldiers, but when he’s all prettied up, he gets shy and soft at moments. His bright eyes are twitching from the motion of Torbjörn’s hand against his beard to the dark stains of old sweat beneath his arms and the oil splattered on his person.

“You’re just hungry for it, hum?” Torbjörn croons, watching Jack flush and sputter; trying to come up with an excuse while he watches the engineer advance on him. He’s so different to Ingrid. She knows what she wants and she’s never shy to tell Torbjörn exactly how she wants it.

If she wants her husband to positively _reek_ so she can stuff her face into his moist armpits and sniff to her heart’s content while he rails her, she’ll tell him as much.

Morrison isn’t like that; not when he’s prettied himself up like a little girl. He likes to hem and haw and be made to say and do embarrassing stuff. He likes being forced a bit.

He likes that Torbjörn’s rough paws of hands can make even him look dainty when one curls around his ankle and gives it a hard tug to pull him closer to where Torbjörn wants him.

It’s all good in Torbjörn’s book. Everybody is different like that. There’s spice in variety.

He is sure Ingrid will later reprimand him for being so mean and crude to Jack when he’s looked so cute in his get-up, but ultimately it is the right thing to do when the Strike Commander comes crawling into _his_ bedroom like a little slut.

Morrison likes the rough daddy vibe that Torbjörn exudes, and when he tells him that he’s not going to undress and just get his dick out to fuck him like the little hussy that he is, he is gratified to see how wide his pupils blow.

Torbjörn is exhausted, but not too exhausted to not fuck Morrison up nice at least.

It doesn’t take much anyway. Morrison is surprisingly easy to please when he’s sitting on a dick. He may mewl and whine and try to get away from it but once his legs are spread around a wide set of hips, his cock buried somewhere beneath the swell of Torbjörn’s belly, and his hole stretched wide around the engineer’s dick, he becomes as docile as a kitten.

Torbjörn has merely dipped two thick fingers into the leghole of his tiny panties and pulled them to the side to show off the soft gape of his hole. Usually he’d take his time to at least unwrap his present; maybe try and get one of Morrison’s tits out to try and suckle on it while he rails him, but he just doesn’t have the patience for it after a long day at work.

Jack doesn’t seem to mind either way. He has his head back and very gratifyingly cries out every time Torbjörn fucks into him and stretches his walls wide.

Fucking Morrison really is a stroke for a man’s ego. He doesn’t know if Jack just is that way; vocal to an absurd degree; howling as he gets dicked and his insides stoked to a roaring fire, or whether he likes the aesthetic of it all; of having his legs in the air and bouncing and being enveloped in Torbjörn’s thick sweat stench as he’s getting railed and his stockings smeared with oil.

It doesn’t really matter in the end.

What matters is that Jack Morrison is a not-so-closeted slut, and that he regularly comes on Torbjörn’s cock like he’s been conditioned to do so. He’s never had to work so little to get a partner off as with Jack who looks like he has a seizure while he is clenching and jerking and coming, and he is sure that Ingrid will let him know right away that he won’t be allowed to get away with this half-assery when he’s back with her.


	8. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – trans Reaper; thicc bara Reaper; pervy old man 76; blowjobs – Gabriel has trouble this time around and Jack is allowed to help.
> 
> Prequel: B27F14  
> Sequel: B30F1

Jack has been sitting with his hands clasped between his knees for what couldn’t be a long amount of time but what still felt like ages as he watched Gabriel become more and more frustrated beneath the showers.

He doesn’t know what it is today that makes it so difficult for his old friend to get off, and he is almost certain that Gabriel doesn’t have an inkling as well because he keeps trying and keeps getting more frustrated in the process.

He’s started with his broad back to Jack, not paying him any attention (as per usual) as he braced himself against the wall with one arm and let the other hand slip between his massively muscled thighs.

Jack hadn’t been able to see much like that of course. He’s rarely allowed to just watch like he’s been that very first magical time. It always depends on Gabriel’s mood; how much he is willing to have the ‘old pervert’ gawking on him, and only being treated to the sight of Gabriel’s fat ass (not bad in and off itself) is nothing new for Jack who is… admittedly… a thirsty old pervert.

However, he could also tell that something had been simply _off_. Maybe it was because of the tight set of Gabriel’s broad shoulders; or the little dissatisfied grunts coming off of him, but… yeah.

Eventually, Gabriel even turned around and almost slammed his shoulders back into the wall, planting his feet far apart to let Jack see his gorgeous cunt in all its glory, cock jutting out at the apex of the plump lips; engorged and needy looking; so hard it had to hurt.

Jack had been whining and leaning forward; every little inch that he could get closer to Gabriel so very precious as he wondered what kept him from just orgasming. Just… just rubbing a nice delicious and relaxing orgasm out right there… for Jack to watch and savor… for him to replay later in his rooms, desperately grunt fucking his fist while imagining the proud jut of Gabriel’s cock between his blunt, strong fingertips.

“Fucking disgusting pervert,” Gabriel hissed then, as if he had been able to read Jack’s thoughts, dark mean eyes fixed on Jack while he’d reached down to spread the fat lips of his cunt with one hand, as he started almost violently jerking his cock with the other…

But nothing.

He grit his teeth and threw his head back (in a way that had to fucking hurt) and dug his heels in, but… nothing. His body did not get tight; he did not start to shake through a delirious high; no thick spray of cum as he fucked the air and looked ready to slip on the floor and fall.

Just Gabriel being frustrated and angrily jerking it and looking close to fucking tears as he kept trying; all while Jack sat there, hands clasped, watching.

Cock painfully, pathetically hard, lifting the front of his sweatpants because Gabriel did not allow him to undress of course. He has no interest in watching a disgusting old pervert pull his disgusting old dick out to jerk it to him…

...and the knowledge gets Jack even hotter. He likes being a disgusting waste of space for Gabriel because he knows it is just for now; just for that little game they are playing in here. It’s a nice, hot fantasy that they can both enjoy as Gabriel keeps looking at him and talking about him like Jack is just some kind of disgusting, perving geezer.

When Gabriel tells him that he is allowed to come closer (...ordering him to get his ass over), he naturally doesn’t react at first because it doesn’t quite register with him.

“Morrison! Get _here_ , God damn you!” Gabriel’s voice is rough and a bit brittle; like he is about to start sobbing because he’s been coasting on that sharp knife's edge of _almost_ getting there for what had to feel like hours now.

Jack finally gets moving. His body doesn’t feel like his own as he makes his way over on unsteady legs, his cock preceding him like some kind of wishing rod; swinging left and right beneath the drape of his sweats, leading him without detour towards the shower area and Gabriel standing beneath the hot spray.

“On your knees, perv,” Gabriel hisses. He is taking his hands off of himself, and is letting Jack see… everything as he falls down so hard he is sure he has cracked something in his right knee. The pain takes a backseat to him being right there in front of Gabriel’s cock. It is dark and engorged and absolutely delicious looking.

He doesn’t even realize he is gravitating towards it until Gabriel’s harsh fingers are curled into his rapidly thinning white hair and rip his head back, making him look up the gorgeous, thick body and into Gabriel’s hard set face.

“You will suck me off,” Gabriel tells him, and Jack almost thinks he might have misheard because of the shower thrumming water down all over them. “And you will keep your dirty fingers to yourself, Morrison. Understand?!” He lightly shakes him with the grip he has on him; driving his point home.

His cock is right there in Jack’s peripheral. His mouth is watering at the thought of feeling it against his tongue. He nods hastily. There’s no other answer to be given, of course. Being so close to Gabriel’s massive, head-crushing thighs should be a bit alarming, but Jack is far beyond the point of not being turned on by the prospect of Gabriel fucking him into a sorry little heap of pulp.

He opens up wide and lets his tongue loll out, fingers dug into the now wet fabric of his sweatpants. The thought of going against Gabriel’s orders accidentally and just ending this whole thing is giving him a mild panic attack.

Gabriel uses the grip he has on his head to pull him close. He all but breaks Jack’s nose against his pubic bone, but the sensation of it is vestigial compared to Gabriel Reyes’ cock dragging across his tongue and filling his mouth.

His chin is pushing into the wet folds of his cunt. He tries to be cute about it and give him a bit more to rub off against, but Gabriel growls rather terrifyingly, and Jack immediately goes still and just lets him use his mouth.

Gabriel lifts one leg and throws it over Jack’s shoulder. He pulls him closer until he can fuck down into his mouth, suffocating him in his crotch and making his head pound both from the pain and lack of stamina.

Jack thinks that Gabriel is wild enough right now to actually accidentally kill him and fuck… fuck he wouldn’t care. He’d thank him even, probably.

Gabriel’s cock is silky and salty and dragging against his tongue with every thrust and grind. he suckles sloppily.

Gabriel has been so close to it for so long that it doesn’t surprise him with how little it takes him to actually come in a record time.

He pauses, breath hitching, and Jack’s cock is _flexing_ in his pants as he closes his eyes and just… _bathes_ in the feeling of Gabriel coming against his tongue. Into his mouth. He is sure if he were to flick is tongue _just so_ , Gabriel would start squirting, too, but he does not dare to move even an inch.

His head keeps pounding even when Gabriel finally pulls back. The grip he has on Jack’s hair has become somewhat gentler at some point in time. He is petting him.

“Get your ass to my rooms later, perv.”


	9. Klaus/Jesper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus/Jesper – Klaus movie – toys; big insertion; gape – Jesper makes Klaus build his own toy.

Jesper is a man of many talents. Of course. Whatever he is bodily able to do, he can do. Of course. Jesper would always be his own greatest fan. How could he not when he was just so… so… splendid?!

However… As his own greatest fan, Jesper also possessed the humility to identify the few and in between occasions (...very, very few, and far, _far_ in between occasions) where he might not be the… absolute ideal candidate for a job.

For example.

While Jesper is a highly accomplished and impossibly generous lover (of course, of course – goes without saying), there are things that he simply can not do. With Klaus. Specifically with him.

Their size difference is just… it is a lot. It is a lot to even just try to wrap his head around, let alone his hand around the massive heavy _cock_ that Klaus had swinging between... 

Well. Well, well, well.

What one didn’t have physically, they could make up for mentally. 

“My dear Klaus,” he crooned, hands coming to rest on Klaus’ shoulders because he was sitting at his workbench lovingly carving the tiny little face of a tiny little toy for a tiny little human being. He squeezed gently and rubbed, feeling the corded muscles through the thick fabric of Klaus’ coat. “My very dear, very talented Klaus.”

Klaus pauses, glances first to his shoulder where Jesper’s long-fingered hands are holding him, then peeks up and behind him to look at Jesper himself. Something like trepidation seems to be entering his gaze, which… wow. Unfair. And unfounded.

“...Yes?” he says eventually. Jesper lets go of his broad shoulders and instead frames his neck, then the hinges of his jaw, fingers sliding into his long beard and gently scratching at his cheeks and jawline because that always makes Klaus go to putty in his hands.

This time is no exception.

“I have thought,” Jesper croons while Klaus’ eyes close and he makes a soft sound like a horse, his head sinking back against Jesper’s chest, begging for more scratching. It’s much like rubbing a big bear’s head. “I know we are both very satisfied with my performances in the bedroom,” he says gently, and continues before that can sink in and Klaus can start babbling nervously because for a man who has once been married already, he is surprisingly shy when talking about anything sexual.

“But I thought I could enhance my performance only if I were to possess a… lets say… member of your quality and size.” He is speaking slow and careful, choosing his words so Klaus will not only be able to follow him but also not become offended and embarrassed about Jesper being too _crude_.

Klaus has become very still, radiating heat against Jesper’s hands; but he hasn’t said a peep of protest yet which is absolutely phenomenal in Jesper’s book.

“So… this is where you come in,” Jesper says slowly, rubbing and scratching and making sure Klaus is nice and comfortable before-

“You’re going to carve a nice fat cock out of wood that you would just love to sit on so I can have something to fuck you into a blubbering mess with. ‘Kay? Great! See you later! Don’t come out without being finished!”

And he’s gone before Klaus can even stop choking on his own tongue.

.oOo.

Jesper softly whistles through his teeth when he flicks the soft clothing aside and reveals the toy underneath.

It’s a special kind of toy; the kind that’s not for children and just for Klaus and Jesper.

Klaus looks ready to just… die on the spot. They are sitting on his huge, fur covered bed, naked and ready, but Jesper is pretty sure if he moved to the side _just so_ , Klaus would grab the opportunity and flee from the room.

Jesper ignores him and grabs the wooden cock. It is smooth and beautiful; the wood somehow warm to the touch. There are even veins running along its shaft, and now he’s kind of regretting not having stayed to watch Klaus work on this. It must have been a pretty good sight.

He lifts it higher. It is not as heavy as he would have thought something its size would be, and when he turns it to look at the base, it becomes apparent why: It is hollowed out.

His face splits into a big grin as he glances up at Klaus while slipping his hand easily into the hollow. The cock goes easily up to his elbow. He waggles his eyebrows at Klaus, and Klaus goes first deathly pale beneath his already white beard, then flushes a sudden, painful looking red.

“Why, Klaus… I didn’t think you had it in you,” Jesper croons, but Klaus does absolutely _not_ look like he can take any teasing about this right now, and for once Jesper relents and his grin becomes softer. He reaches out with his free hand; puts it on Klaus’ arm and squeezes it.

“Turn around, then. Let us see what noises you can make with this…”

.oOo.

Dear _Lord_ , the noises Klaus can make with this!

He’d already been a good boy; always groaning and whining and letting himself get fucked on Jesper’s arm into a nice, satisfying orgasm… but with his toy, he seems to absolutely go wild.

Klaus’ big hands are fisted into the many furs; holding on for dear life as he has to spread his knees wide to accommodate the sheer girth of the toy; something Jesper could not offer with his skinny limbs.

He wonders if this is the first time Klaus is being spread like this.

Like he needs.

Jesper is fucking him gently, slowly; watching the wet glisten of his impossibly stretched hole to make sure that he is well taken care of while he gets his guts filled with the big fake cock that he himself carved.

Every now and then, Jesper likes to drag the cock out long and slow; see just the very tip placed against the plump rim of Klaus’ hole to see just how loose he has become. How for once Klaus is _gaping_. His little cute hole has become shiny and brick red; the muscle swollen from being _used_ ; and Jesper doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as delicious as this.

Klaus sounds like he’s close to tears. He’s hiding his face between his fisted hands, muffling his sobs into the bedding as he lets himself get fucked – and inspected – like the very good boy that he is.

Jesper can only imagine how it is for a man of Klaus’ size to really be _filled_ for once. To have something lodged in his guts that is so big and substantial, it is distending his belly in the shape of a cock.

His motions become sharper when he realizes that Klaus is close. His shoulder aches from the unnatural motions, but the pain takes a backseat to the sight of Klaus’ cock, fat and flushed, swinging between his thighs and drooling a steady stream of salty pre onto a dish they had placed there in the hopes to safe the furs.

They were both unprepared for Klaus’ sudden, earth shattering orgasm, though. One moment he is still sobbing and twitching and disbelieving of the sheer volume filling him up – and the next he is suddenly starting to howl as his cock flexes and ropes of cum are shot up towards his chest in what looks like violent spurts.

Jesper’s only solace is that he can see them hitting Klaus’ beard.

_Fuck_. He’d known this would be good. He just hadn’t anticipated _how_ good.


	10. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – no sex – Jack figures out who his assailant was.
> 
> Prequel: B28F5

The body atop Jack’s shifts. It becomes… lighter. The large belly that had been pressing against his back, making him inadvertently present for his own abuse by this monster’s massive cock.

His brain is still mush, body confused by all kinds of sensations that don’t seem to mesh well; the used throb of his swollen, impossibly stretched hole, and the post-orgasm tingles from a peak he can’t even remember reaching.

He is still blearily staring at the sunrise when the fur atop him starts to vanish. The body itself does not move away, though. Although it has become lighter and more… naked? There is still a certain weight pressed down onto Jack’s back.

The cock that had been spearing right into his belly has shifted as well into much more manageable dimensions. Arms curl around Jack’s hips and seem to hold on for dear life-

and then someone who isn’t Jack _groans_.

Jack closes his eyes in breathes deeply, trying to calm himself. His arms feel like noodles as he finally begins to push himself upright, making whoever… whatever… is behind him now groan once more before the arms around his hips slide away.

A soft, seemingly human cock slips from Jack but still makes him feel like all his innards should just drop out with it after the horse had fucked him so vigorously into the shape of its dick.

He can hear something big plunking down into the grass behind him, and takes only a moment more of breathing through before he makes himself turn around.

There’s a man sitting in the thick grass that his cows usually munch on. A naked man with long, wavy black hair that looks exactly like the shaggy mane of the… the monster horse just now.

(Jack is not an imaginative man; he is a farmer and he believes in facts and in getting to bed early so he doesn’t try to murder anyone when his coffee machine has fucked off again during the night. The thought of a monster horse existing makes something static in his brain appear; like he is trying to spare himself the indignity of even thinking about it – but when he remembers the wicked long teeth that had glinted at him in the before-dawn darkness, there simply was no other explanation for it…)

Jack’s knees are weak, and he finally sits down as well; just plonks his aching ass into the cool grass right in front of the man that looks about slowly and disoriented.

The guy is ripped; the kind of tight, usable muscles that come with some real hard work. The sight makes Jack wonder if the man had been in the military just like him.

Finally, the stranger’s eyes catch sight of Jack. They widen.

“...Wha?” He lifts his big square hands and rubs them against his face. Jack notices that he is shaking.

He doesn’t say anything, just blinks quietly at the man. The whole situation is absolutely absurd, and maybe he would laugh about it if his whole body wasn’t still aching and thrumming with the nervous confused energy of the best orgasm of his life.

“Why am I here?” the man says finally. It doesn’t seem like he is talking to Jack, per se. He sounds agonized. 

Still, Jack can’t help a sharp remark: “I’d like to know the same. Who are you?”

The stranger’s hands fall away, as does his gaze. He looks away to the side as if unable to look into Jack’s eyes. He looks gutted and ashamed.

And filthy.

The longer Jack looks at him, the more he becomes aware of the state of the man, strangely coinciding with the state of the stallion. Where its weirdly wolf-like fur had been in tangles and matted, this man was sticky and dusty all over. His long hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush or water in months. He’s got an unkempt beard as well, but his eyes look too clear to be of a crazy person.

Jack flinches lightly as he feels a presence at his sides. When he looks, his dogs have wriggled out of one of their secret escape routes from the barn and have come to back him up. Apparently the smell that had freaked them out had vanished. They quietly sit at his sides, watching; waiting for a command.

“Gabriel,” the stranger suddenly says. It takes a bit for Jack’s scrambled brain to realize that it is the answer to his question. The stranger is Gabriel.

Jack inhales deeply. “Do you have any explanation for what happened here… Gabriel?”

Gabriel’s mouth twitches. He can only look at Jack in little bursts, it seems, before his gaze flinches away again.

“Listen,” Gabriel says, voice hoarse like he hasn’t used it in ages. He drags a broad palm across his mouth, fist curling around his beard beneath his chin. “I’m sorry. I thought I had been deep enough in the forest. I did not realize I was so close to your farm.”

Jack can feel his own eyes flinch. His fingertips go a bit numb. He is only wearing scraps of clothes that the beast hadn’t ripped off of him. It hadn’t been much to begin with as he’d been in bed before running to his animals’ aid. It definitely isn’t enough for the early morning cold.

“That… thing. I can’t believe I’m asking this bu-”

“That was me.”

Jack closes his eyes and inhales deeply. This can only be a bad, bad joke, but…

“Come. It is too cold out here. I need… answers.”

.o.

Gabriel is sitting in his kitchen, the throw from the back of Jack’s couch haphazardly thrown around his shoulders because that makes it a least a little bit less weird.

Jack knows that the man’s naked ass is on his kitchen stool, but from the top he looks marginally normal.

There’s no coffee because the machine is striking again, but there is tea. They sit in front of each other, warming their palms. Gabriel stares into his mug. He seems absolutely weary.

“I am sorry for what happened. I… don’t have anything to make it better. I am dead to the world for all intents and purposes. I mean… you could call the police but-”

They both know it would only complicate things and probably make shit more dangerous. Jack is only staring at Gabriel. This is all so ludicrous, so… out there. But he was right there. He felt him shift _on top of him_. He can’t do anything _but_ believe him.

His body tries to tell him that it wasn’t all that bad. Or traumatizing. All that is left of his… his… rape by… a horse… is the dull ache of his ass having been filled past its limits, and the thick tingling of an absolutely mindblowing orgasm.

“I have gone into hiding so long ago,” Gabriel says, not knowing any of Jack’s dilemma. “I have done everything to keep others safe, I…”

He shakes his head. He looks absolutely weary. And he stinks.

“Will you shift again tonight?” Jack asks, seemingly calm while internally he is freaking out as he realizes what he is about to do.

Gabriel is slowly shaking his head.

“Stay here, then. I want to know more.”


	11. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – no sex; mentions of sex though; body horror; body change – Carrying demon spawn is not an easy task. It does things to your body.
> 
> Prequel: B28F10

The longer the pregnancy runs, the stranger things become – and Gabriel doesn’t even seem to notice anymore.

Jack wakes in the middle of the night to tight, hot suction around his cock, and when he lifts the blanket to peek underneath, a pair of sulfurous yellow eyes blink back at him for just enough to make his heart stop and his cock do a stupid throb-and-jerk inside the greedy clutch of Gabriel’s mouth.

Of course his eyes are not yellow. Of course they are not formed like the eyes of some demon cat. When he throws the blanket back, Gabriel is just as ever, handsome and sweet and absolutely _starved_ for cock.

It is not the only instance that has Jack’s blood freeze in his veins, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up to Gabriel; that sometimes, in certain lighting it looks like the corners of his mouth are pulling apart wider than humanly possible when he smiles; or that his teeth sometimes seem awfully sharp.

He talks to Angie about it, but she just looks at him weird. Like Gabriel transforming into some kind of demon because he has a literal _hellspawn_ in his belly would be completely out of the question.

They still have no idea how long the creature will be inside Gabriel. While it had grown so quickly, Gabriel has produced stretchmarks for one glorious week that Jack worshiped the fuck out of his body before the SEP healing could have them vanish… it now seems to have stagnated; leaving Gabriel shoving a huge belly around and getting progressively more horny with it.

Jack sneaks through the hallways like a man haunted. He tries to spend more time outside than anything else, but the others are starting to get suspicious of him, and keeping Gabriel off the roster and out of the others’ business becomes more and more impossible.

“Startin’ t’ think that Gabe’s not sick at all an’ you’re just havin’ some weird old-man-sex-vacation or some shit,” McCree had drawled, and Jack supposes that the look he must have thrown him must have been so pained and haunted that McCree’s mouth had become slack enough to let his cigar topple out of it.

He’d quickly fled the premises afterwards.

When he comes into their shared quarters, he always is assaulted for his cock. Gabriel is rarely talking anymore. The energy he exudes is thick and hot and oppressive and despite it scaring Jack shitless it never fails to have his stupid dick stand up at attention and do whatever cute trick it needs to do for Gabriel to be satisfied.

He waits for Gabriel to be crawling all over the walls and the ceiling.

He doesn’t do that, but it is close. He first starts slinking, then goes on all fours. It looks stupidly endearing with his huge belly.

Jack feels like he is in some kind of hot, sexy nightmare and he really wants to help Gabriel through this, but he does not know how. He does not know how one would help their partner through being possessed by demon spawn.

The thought of losing Gabriel to this keeps him awake at night while Gabriel finally, _finally_ sleeps, all cute with his head in Jack’s lap – though Jack suspects it might be more about knowing that Jack won’t be able to go anywhere; and that his cock will be right there for the taking if hunger struck.

It plateaus like this for a few days, Jack just feeling like he is wading through a weird nightmare, before everything becomes worse and better all at once.

Jack comes back into their rooms and is not immediately assaulted. Gabriel is curled up in a weird little nest he’s built for himself, and when Jack comes closer, fearing the worst as he can’t see Gabriel goddamn _breathing_ , he sees that he is alive and well – and has a tail.

A long black tail, sleek and only as thick as two of Jack’s fingers.

It reminds him of those pictures Angie had presented them with. The hellspawn curled up in Gabriel’s belly; not unlike Gabriel is right now in his nest. Holding its tail like it is a pacifier.

Jack is standing next to the nest that Gabriel has wedged on the floor between their bed and their cupboard, staring at the tail curled around one of Gabriel’s thick thighs. He doesn’t know what to think about it.

“Jack…”

The sound catches him off-guard. It has been a while since he’s heard his husband’s soft, deep voice. He looks towards his face. Gabriel’s eyes are yellow. The muted glow makes them look more catlike. Jack blinks, but the apparition does not change this time.

He still feels curiously calm.

“How are you?” he asks gently and squats down to Gabriel. He reaches out and drags his fingers through his hair; cups his scalp. Gabriel sighs deeply and closes his eyes. He uncurls his tail, and it slides to Jack like a snake before dragging against his thigh and ending up cupping him between his legs.

It does not even seem strange at this point. That Gabriel would instinctively seek his cock just for comfort.

“Like I’ve been sick for a really long time,” Gabriel murmurs. It probably wasn’t as long as Gabriel might feel – or as long as this nightmare should have been – but Jack feels like he could weep right now. He goes from his squat to kneeling, sitting on his heels so he won’t squish Gabriel’s tail beneath him.

“You’ve been a bit out of it, yes,” he croons, scratching the stubble on Gabriel’s jaw. Gabriel breathes in deeply. His hand is absentmindedly rubbing his belly.

“You’ve been so good to me, Jack… but I’m going crazy in here. There’s nothing to do…” he opens his eyes again and looks around. Jack nods slowly.

“I’ll take you on a walk tonight, Gabe. Just… sleep a bit more. You are exhausted.”

Gabriel nods slowly and closes his eyes. For a second Jack thinks he actually fell asleep until he rasps with so much pain in his voice that it aches: “I have a tail, Jackie.”

Jack swallows. He looks down again. The tail is a true black; just a void of all color.

“Yes. I’ve noticed,” he croaks and reaches down, curling his hand around it and holding on lightly. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Call Angie… I don’t know if I can walk right now…”

Jack nods. He wants to stand, but the tail is keeping him from doing so. It is pressing against his crotch; dragging along the bulge of his cock. If Gabriel notices what it… what he… is doing, he does not look like it.

“Are you in pain?” Jack asks gently while prying the tail off of his body and holding it in his hands. It is violently curling in his grip like a snake for just a few disturbing seconds before it seems to realize that it is not being hurt and goes limp against his absentmindedly petting fingers.

Gabriel slowly shakes his head. His eyes are cracked open just-so. Just enough to let the sulfur of his eyes illuminate his cheeks.

“Just tired.”

“Okay. You sleep and I’ll get Angie, alright?”

“Yes…” He is quiet for a second, then reaches out and curls his hand around Jack’s wrist. “Thank you, Jackie. I know this has been pretty freaky… but… I love you. You know that, right?”

“I love you, too. We’ll get through this. I promise you.”


	12. Akande/Lúcio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akande/Lúcio – no sex; rimming; sleepy; body worship – Akande muddling through his feelings for Lúcio.
> 
> Prequel: B28F12

Lúcio is still so sleepy and out of it, but he groggily grabs Akande’s face in his little hands and pulls him up into a little kiss before letting him get back to work.

Akande almost wants to fret over having broken the DJ. He’s never seen him so… still before, but he’s also never woken up with him before. In any case; he is smiling faintly and sighing every so often like he is really into getting his little belly and thick thighs massaged by Akande’s big, roaming hands, so he settles down soon enough and doesn’t worry too much anymore.

He keeps thinking about what Lúcio had said. It had seemed so… earnest. Just like everything the young man says and does.

Akande sighs against Lúcio’s sternum, and wedges himself between his legs. It’s easier like this. Lúcio is a surprising force to be reckoned with when he is awake and firing on all cylinders. Having him sleepy and content for however long this’ll last is a treat that Akande can’t deny himself.

In repose like this, Lúcio’s pecs are nice and relaxed; cute squishy little mounds that Akande lightly sinks his teeth into before opening his mouth wide and sucking them in. Lúcio squirms at that; he grunts, curling his arm around Akande’s neck and keeping him close. One little hand cups the back of his head and urges him closer towards one of his dark nipples until Akande obediently nurses like a babe.

He’s never really been in a position to just… explore and enjoy, and the lack of sexuality of it throws him for a loop. Well… not a _lack_ of it, but rather a subtle undercurrent that is flowing in the background and stoking the low flames simmering in his guts.

Lúcio is quiet other than the soft, wet sound of him breathing through his mouth.

Akande wonders if he remembers what he’s said in the throes of passion; when he’s been completely out of it with desperation from being so unbearably, impossibly full with cock. He glances up at him as he switches to the other nipple and gently laps at it; teasing it into hardness.

Lúcio isn’t looking at him; he’s staring sightlessly at the ceiling. He radiates sleepy warmth. Akande’s thick fingers tickle across his belly. Here, too, he is softer when he is without any tightness in his body.

He feels shockingly young like this. Akande pauses and before he can latch on, he makes himself sit up and just take Lúcio in; lying there sprawled and naked and wholly unashamed.

Akande drags his palm across his mouth. He doesn’t understand what it is about Lúcio that makes him feel so nervous and jittery; like he can _not_ misstep if he wants to keep what he’s got right now. It is an alien feeling; Akande is usually a lot more suave and self-assured than this.

Lúcio is watching him, no particular emotion on his face. Eventually, he lifts a leg and puts his small foot right against the middle of Akande’s chest.

“What are you worrying about?” he croaks. Akande slowly shakes his head. He doesn’t know. Or, more accurately, he can’t tell. He feels ludicrous; like a little boy with his very first crush. He can’t tell this man half his age that he’s scared shitless about losing him.

They are on opposite teams – that complicates things further.

Lúcio wriggles his toes, and Akande reaches up automatically, curls one huge hand around Lúcio’s ankle, and pulls his foot away enough to gently cup the sole and heel with the other palm.

“How ‘bout you just turn off that big brain of yours and keep doing what you’ve been doing? I like waking up like this.”

Akande nods obediently. He can feel something in him settle at the order – it’s easier to just follow along what Lúcio wants. He bows his head and presses a kiss against the ball of his foot, then lets go of it to keep exploring him.

There are a few tattooed frogs scattered here and there that Akande has a surprising amount of delight finding. There’s one beneath Lucio’s right pec, and one on the inside of a forearm. There’s one on the jut of his hipbone. He can feel a surge of jealousy at that; thinking about someone who had Lúcio lying there, exposing the base of his delicious little cock… or maybe not wearing anything at all?

Just lying there, showing off unabashedly… having a nice little conversation with whoever was bend close over his crotch to paint the stylized little frog onto his pelvic bone…

Akande blinks profusely and slowly shakes his head. He gently nudges and rolls, and soon Lúcio is on his belly.

On his back are more frogs to be found, but Akande only skims them as he follows the delicious line of his spine down to the real price.

Lúcio’s ass is nice and plump and just so _small_ that Akande wonders all over again however he managed to fit his cock in there.

He spreads the squishy cheeks with both hands. On Lúcio, they feel more like paws. He’s vaguely aware of Lúcio making sounds of appreciation above him, but is more focused on the sight of his hole; still swollen and bruised looking.

He’s been in there. He’s been right up snuggled in Lúcio’s belly. Kept nice and tight and warm because Lúcio had wanted him _that_ much.

Akande hunkers down with a soft little sigh and closes his eyes. The experience is, curiously enough, just as slow and underhanded as the rest of his exploration of Lúcio’s body. It throws him for a loop that having his tongue slowly, lovingly lapping at a loose little hole isn’t getting him fired up to dick down like it usually would, but he kind of enjoys it.

His cock is chubbed just a bit; interested yet seemingly as lazy as everything that morning had been up until then.

Lúcio makes cute little sounds; sighing and moaning and grunting. He shuffles his thick thighs a bit farther apart, but other than that he just lies there and lets himself get serviced.

Akande needs to press only just a little bit to have his tongue slip into the sweet little hole. It’s hot inside. Hot and silky, and… his _cock_ had been there hours ago. His head swims at the thought.

He pulls back, presses kisses against Lúcio’s tailbone, then dips back in and mouths at his little opening. It is loose and warm and as welcoming as the rest of the young man.

Eventually, Akande crawls up and just says it between instances of kissing the little frog between Lúcio’s shoulder blades: “I love you, too.”

Lúcio makes a sleepy sound; like Akande’s tongue on his asshole had been about to put him right back under. He twists awkwardly and curls his arm around Akande’s neck, pulling him around with a surprising strength before wrapping himself around him with all limbs.

“Hmmn. Good.”

And that’s that.


	13. Aizawa/Fatgum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizawa/Fatgum – somnophilia; lazy sex; lazy morning sex; v mild petplay – Fatgum is awake one rainy morning. Aizawa is not.

“Hey… you awake?” Fatgum murmurs while he fumbles to the side for the alarm. He lifts it up, squinting at the numbers. They have just conked out as soon as they hit Fat’s massive couchbed, and now it is a grey, rainy morning with nothing to do for once.

Nothing, as long as neither of them got called into an emergency, that was.

They reek. They should have at least changed their clothes, but the prospect of it had been too daunting last night, so here they were.

Aizawa makes a soft sound; low and long and grumbling, and while that would be a sign for anybody else that they were reluctantly awake, Fatgum has slept often enough with Eraser to know that it meant he was somewhat coherent but nowhere near not-asleep.

Aizawa turns his head and rubs his face into Fat’s jacket. Fat glances at him. He’s hungry – he always is – but Aizawa looks too peaceful to actually make him get up. He’s almost drooling, wild black hair all over his face, and Fatgum takes care to carefully pull the strands away.

He really could use a hairbrush but he also usually has too much on his plate to care about personal hygiene as far as Fatgum has been able to unearth.

He drags one thick finger along Aizawa’s jaw, feeling the rough, uneven stubble, then gently scratches beneath his chin. Aizawa obediently, if sleepily, lifts his head and makes a grumbling sound like a purr. It pairs nicely with the thrumming of the rain outside.

Fatgum closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Aizawa, lying on his belly with all limbs akimbo, rises naturally with it. There is an Aizawa shaped indent in his fat reserves and he can’t say that he minds.

These lazy mornings are rare but infinitely appreciated.

“So since you’re not awake an’ all,” Fat murmurs with his eyes closed, just feeling Aizawa on top of him, warm and heavy and content, “I guess you’ll mind if I start gettin’ you outta those clothes.”

No reaction, which Fat takes as a permission to go ahead. Aizawa is as loose limbed as a doll as he first uncurls his capture weapon from around his neck and shoulders, and then proceeds to somehow finagle his jumpsuit off of him.

The angle is all bad to figure something like this out, but Fat is nothing if not determined to get them both more comfortable. Aizawa, thankfully, sleeps through all of it.

It is almost disturbing how deep he is under. Or maybe he’s just gotten really, really good at pretending. Fat doesn’t quite know, and he also doesn’t quite want to ask. Having been a hero as long as he has, he has learned that some things are just more charming without an answer.

“There you go,” he grunts when he’s managed to roll Aizawa onto his side so he could drag down the zipper of his jacket. “That’s a lot better, ain’t it, kitty?”

Aizawa doesn’t react much. He snuggles himself down when he realizes that he is lying on the wide expanse of Fatgum’s skin, and digs his fingers into the squishy underground.

That’s how they lie for the next half-or-so-hour, Aizawa grunting every now and then as he moves slightly about to find a better resting spot for his limbs, and Fatgum just spacing in and out after he fumbled for the remote and quietly got some breakfast news in the background.

When Aizawa digs his hips in, it doesn’t register at first.

When he keeps digging them in, slow and leisurely and decidedly rhythmic, Fatgum takes notice.

He curls and arm slowly around Aizawa, huge hand cupping a small ass through the cat-themed boxershorts he’s left on him. Fat fingers dig lightly into the crease of his ass, dragging across where he knows his hole to be, even though he can’t feel it through the fabric.

Aizawa sighs softly through his nose and shifts his head around to lie on his other cheek. He’s sunken quite a bit into the liberal fatcap of his belly. He wonders how it feels, sometimes. Aizawa must really like it at the very least – he always tends to gravitate towards Fat’s belly when they are alone, curling up on it like the overgrown kitty that he is.

He definitely likes it enough to now be humping Fat, slow and easy and with little sighs through his nose accentuating each thrust.

Fatgum can’t say that he complains about the treatment. Being a pro-hero means not getting some as often as he might like. He’s not keen on getting plastered all over social media by some easy one-night fling, and he knows that Aizawa has it even harder. He does not trust easily.

Being able to give each other this reprieve is almost as precious as being able to lie together and enjoy a rainy morning off work.

Fatgum slowly slips his fingers into the back of Aizawa’s shorts. His ass is cute and small, one cheek fitting right into the palm of his hand. Aizawa makes a soft sound, trying to shuffle his knees farther apart but inadvertently being thwarted by the way he has sunk into Fat’s belly.

Fatgum inhales deeply. He had never much thought about how good it would be to have a sleeping, helpless Aizawa trapped in his fat. Being able to feel him fuck against him while gently rubbing at his dry little hole.

He’s never been one for games of dominance, but he finds that he quite likes this sensation. Being fully in charge of Eraserhead; hearing how whiny and needy he becomes when he thinks he is trapped instead of just sunk into Fatgum’s massive belly.

Maybe he is dreaming. Maybe in his mind he is trapped by some villain or has wrapped himself up in his own capture weapon. Helplessly dangling… used by some unknown other.

The way he sounds as he keeps flexing his hips and dragging his trapped cock against the fabric of his shorts and into the warm squish of Fatgum’s belly, he must really like it. Those are only speculations, of course. He can’t look into Aizawa’s head – though he certainly would like to be a fly on that particular wall.

“What a good little kitty,” he murmurs, one fingertip pressing a bit harder against Eraser’s little muscle; feeling it tremble as if trying to open up for him.

Fatgum closes his eyes and inhales deeply. His own cock is hard and throbbing somewhere he can’t reach right now. It’s always a difficult thing when he’s stored up with fat like he is right now.

Maybe Aizawa can later be motivated to crawl down and lap at the shiny blunt tip until he came all over his face. Into his hair. Shit. At least that would give him an excuse to drag the guy into the shower and pamper him. Just really take care of him. Maybe fuck him properly because he’s so cute post-orgasm…

Ahh one could certainly dream during these rainy, lazy mornings.

Aizawa’s breath hitches as he comes, a soft yowl punctuating him creaming the inside of his shorts.

Cute kitty.


	14. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – subby!McCree; frenemies; mildly yandere Hanzo; no sex – how can you hate each other’s guts and still be really into each other? The key is lots of denial.
> 
> Prequel: B28F11  
> Sequel: B30F2

Hanzo had been nice and discreet when following McCree through the suburbs. He’s made his way through the same streets, around the same corners, and eventually into the same little unassuming club that had turned out to be a kind of BDSM gay bar or some such.

The thought of McCree frequenting these establishments and concerning himself with partners other than _Hanzo_ immediately left a sour taste in his mouth, but he’d managed to stay calm and put himself into a corner from which he could still watch the idiot man while still being unseen himself.

He doesn’t like the thought that McCree would still go to other men to get his rocks off when Hanzo was pretty sure he’s made his intent _rather clear_ in that he expects to be the sole owner of the stinking, dilapidated… thing that McCree let his body run down to.

Maybe it had been too subtle for the American. Maybe McCree needed Hanzo’s ownership over him stamped onto his body or dangling as a tag from his gaudy belt.

He’s not entirely sure. He’s never met a man as willfully obtuse as McCree. Someone who could get under his skin and press all the buttons with a kind of disturbing precision that made him fume just thinking about it.

Hanzo wants to strangle McCree in the best of times. He’s not sure why he should care why his… his… _sidepiece_ has other sidepieces, but here he is, watching and brooding and feeling red hot anger spike in his belly when he sees another man approach and curl his arm around McCree’s sturdy hips just a few moments later.

Hanzo is there in a flash. He’s not entirely sure what he says to the suitor to get him to turn tail, and he’s not quite sure what the expression on McCree’s face is supposed to mean because the first think he registers when he pushes himself between the two bodies is that McCree has put on _aftershave_.

Hanzo’s face goes dark as he turns around and grabs McCree by the collar of his jacket, yanking him so he can press his nose against his clavicle and inhale once sharply just to make sure it is really him and not the man he just pushed out of the way.

It is McCree. He showered himself and got all dolled up with the intent to go to this club and find a suitor.

He is distracted by the thought by the man himself pushing him away hard with a big hand against Hanzo’s chest. McCree’s face is dark and foreboding.

“What the _fuck_ ’re you doin’ here?” he rasps. Hanzo sneers at him.

“I am making certain nobody sullies my property.”

McCree blinks at him slowly, his mouth opening and moving, lips lax as he seems to look for words. His dark eyes flick to over Hanzo’s shoulder, and he suddenly takes him by the shoulder and roughly shoves him towards the exit of the club.

“They don’t like drama in here,” he grunts when Hanzo violently shrugs off the harsh grip and throws him a glowering look.

They leave the premises and McCree drags him into a side alley. Hanzo is not prepared for being roughly shoved against a brick wall, but he keeps the noise punched out of him to a minimum.

“What the Hell do you mean by ‘your property’, Shimada?! What kinda crazy stunt is that even, following me here?”

There is an edge to McCree’s usually affable, deep voice that makes Hanzo pause a little and glance at his face. McCree is standing close so he doesn’t have to raise his voice too much, bit there is a tightness around his eyes as he keeps one hand fisted in the shirt covering Hanzo’s shoulder.

Hanzo blinks slowly.

“Are you afraid, McCree?”

McCree sputters rears his head back like a spooked horse before bearing back down on Hanzo and using the grip he has on his garment to lightly pull him away and then push him back into the brick wall.

“I am not _afraid_ ,” he hisses. “I am _disturbed_. What the actual _Hell_? You crazy motherfucker.”

“You repeat yourself,” Hanzo murmurs. He can feel himself becoming a little unsure himself, now. He’s never really been in a position where he could bed a companion for more than once, and hadn’t really stopped to consider whether what he was doing was entirely sane.

McCree didn’t look like he appreciated the whole affair too much, but he also wasn’t gone yet.

“Why?”

Hanzo frowns. “Why what? Speak in whole sentences, McCree.”

“Look at you. You could have any guy you damn well wanted, Shimada,” McCree says with no small amount of annoyance that he even has to speak it out loud. He is standing upright, slowly dragging his hands down the front of the shirt he is wearing. It is a _good_ shirt, and Hanzo’s jealousy spikes immediately once more. “Why would you put effort into… whatever this fucking thing is?” He gestures vaguely between the two of them.

Hanzo grits his teeth. He hadn’t really imagined the evening to go like this. Standing in an alley and _talking_ to _McCree_ of all people instead of bending himself over some bathroom appliance and ordering him to finger him until the anger he felt evaporated.

He speaks without thinking, only really realizing he had spoken when he sees the weird stare McCree levels him with.

“I do not appreciate the thought of someone else finding out about you.”

McCree inhales deeply and slowly drags one broad hand across his face.

“What do you mean with ‘find out about me’?” he says long suffering. Hanzo can feel the same agitation; he does not particularly enjoy talking to McCree in general, and having to spell everything out in minute detail when he thinks it is so very obviously clear feels like pulling nails.

“I do not want another man to realize how easy you are to bend. I do not want another man to defile you. I do not want another man to break you down and… do a shoddy job at putting you back together. I do not enjoy having others play with my toys, McCree.”

McCree stares at him again. He blinks slowly, then inhales like he has to keep himself calm.

“Do you ever… hear yourself talk, Shimada? Do you even have an inkling of what a crazy _bitch_ you are?”

Hanzo clicks his tongue, sweeping McCree’s words aside with a lax gesture.

“You repeat yourself. And… You do enjoy it, do you not? You are still here, talking to me.”

McCree wheezes and lets his head sink back to stare into the nightsky above them. His lips move as if he is sending off a prayer.

Hanzo reaches up and harshly grabs at the thick, barely kempt beard. He pulls, and McCree makes a weird little whining sound but goes with it, obediently bending his spine until their faces are so close, their noses nearly touch.

“Now that this is cleared up, I think I want you back in my rooms. I want you nice and quiet and obeying like the good little slave you are while you are allowed to service me. Have I made myself clear, McCree?”

McCree’s dark eyes have become soft, the tightness around them gradually vanishing until he slowly, awkwardly nods his head in the tight grip Hanzo still has on his beard.


End file.
